


slow motion

by ottermo



Series: As Prompted [102]
Category: Humans (TV)
Genre: Gen, Mia Lives AU, Miscarriage mention, Post S3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:27:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25548193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ottermo/pseuds/ottermo
Summary: Everything takes a little longer these days. Mia tries not to feel like she’s dragging them down.
Relationships: Mattie Hawkins & Mia Elster
Series: As Prompted [102]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/360089
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	slow motion

**Author's Note:**

> For the Humans Challenge prompt of the same title.

Everything takes a little longer these days, like she’s living in slow motion. Most of her auto-processes (instincts, Leo calls them) have to be consciously coded - even speech. Her audio processing is much slower, and even once she’s worked out what the reply needs to be, it’s a struggle sometimes to access the right vocabulary.

Painting, which used to come so naturally, is now hard work. But that’s okay. Sophie and Sam have been studying Picasso at school, and the three of them spend a happy afternoon drawing fantastically abstract figures and “gifting” them to whoever wanders past (Joe has no more room on his fridge, and earlier he caught Stanley looking up fridge prices online, since, not being somebody who eats, he doesn’t own one).

She’s kept out of the public eye. Mostly because her sacrifice - her death - means something to people, and nobody wants to endanger that yet. She suspects, too, that it’s a kindness to her: she moves like she’s broken (because she is) and she can’t map unfamiliar places with a single scan anymore. Everything is done by visual input.

“Like a human,” Mattie comments, raising an eyebrow at the most recent diagnostic. “How are you finding it?”

After a pause, Mia says, “Getting easier.” Stiffly, she holds up a finger, which is a sign Max came up with for when she has more to say but can’t find the words yet. Mattie notices and waits expectantly. “How are you coping?” The whole sentence is long, so she shortens it to, “Your mother.”

“Yeah. Same, really - it’s getting easier.” Mattie sighs. “I just wish I could talk to her sometimes.”

Mia gives Mattie a small, forlorn smile, a show of empathy that takes more concentration to code than it used to take her to complete a cross-stitch. It’s a small price to pay, though. If Mia misses Laura, she can only imagine what it’s like for Mattie, not to have had her mother by her side after what happened.

Slowly, deliberately, Mia holds out her hand. Mattie places hers on top, interlinking them. Delicately, she pushes each of Mia’s fingers so that they wrap around her own hand, so that no extra commands are needed.

“It would be so much worse if I didn’t have you,” Mattie confesses. “After the baby…” She swallows. “I couldn’t have got through that without you, Mia. Neither could Leo. I think you should know that. Because everything’s harder for you now, but you’re not…” She slides her other hand under Mia’s. “You’re not a burden. You keep us going.”

Mia leans forward just a little, and thankfully Mattie realises what she’s trying to do and touches their foreheads together. The first night, after Mattie wasn’t pregnant any more, they had sat like this for hours, both so paralysed by grief that it didn’t matter that Mia couldn’t speak like before. There weren’t words for a night like that, not really.

There are words now, though. “You keep me going, too.”

Mia’s sensors, dulled as they are, can’t relay the slight shift of Mattie’s facial muscles, but she can hear the smile in the girl’s voice all the same. “That’s family, I guess.”

“Yes,” says Mia, and even though Mattie can’t see her from this angle, she codes a smile back.


End file.
